She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 9

Hilda finished getting her mother comfortable. As she was about to leave, the older woman suddenly called out to her.

"Hilda."

Her hand on the doorknob, she slowly turned around.

Her mother rolled her wheelchair over and grasped her hand, a strangely gentle, soft smile on her pale face. "Honey... you don't always have to win. It's okay to lose sometimes. All I want is for you to be free. Don't let love drag you down, and don't let it become your prison."

Stunned, a sharp wave of sorrow hit Hilda. Choking back her emotions, she managed a soft nod. "I know, Mom. I'll see you later."

The moment she pulled the door shut, the tears she had been holding back flooded her face.

...

She hid in the stairwell for a long time, desperately trying to pull herself together. Even so, when she finally made her way down to the parking garage, the tip of her nose was still pink, making it obvious she had been crying.

Luther was waiting in the black Bentley. Seeing her approach, he leaned over and pushed the passenger door open. "What took you so long?"

Then, his eyes locked onto hers. She had clearly been crying.

Sliding into the leather seat, she looked at him. She was finally ready to let herself off the hook, and him as well. Like her mother had said, it was okay to lose. From now on, she would take Annie and forge her own path. Who was right and who was wrong, all this toxic history—none of it mattered anymore. She just wanted a fresh start.

When she spoke, her voice was completely hoarse.

"We'll do exactly as you said. We're getting a divorce."

"The second fifty million hits my account, I'll sign the papers. You have my word I won't make a scene, and I won't interfere with your life with Jolie. I'll even leave Alpha City entirely. You'll never have to look at my face again."

She assumed he would jump at the deal. Because he had been waiting years for this day.

Instead, he leaned back against the headrest, hooked a finger into his tie, and slowly yanked it loose.

Yes, that had been the original plan. But things had changed.

His grandmother didn't have much time left. She desperately wanted to see Hilda, and she wanted to see them raise a child together. Since that was her dying wish, he would put on a flawless performance for her. The price was simply one more year of his freedom.

But there was another, much darker underlying motive.

He desired his wife. Every time he saw her, it stoked a dangerous fire in his blood. By keeping her trapped in his space for a year, whenever his urges spiked, he could simply claim her, draining the novelty out of her system until he grew thoroughly bored.

Seeing her hesitate, he let out a lazy, mocking drawl. "Haven't you always wanted to play the role of my loving, devoted wife? Now you're getting exactly what you want. Why aren't you thrilled?"

Even if she were naive, she understood exactly what he was implying. She would have to sleep with him.

Staring at the monster beside her, his mask completely shattered. He claimed to love Jolie, yet he fully intended to use her body for his own sick gratification. She finally saw him for what he really was. Her past devotion felt like a sick joke. That aristocratic, untouchable elegance was nothing but a fragile facade.

The men in his elite circle were all the same—they lived for the thrill. They took what they wanted, played with it until they were bored, and discarded it like trash.

All of this, even though he despised her, even though he thought she was dirty.

Hot, stinging tears pricked her eyes. Pushing the heavy door open, she climbed out and walked away without looking back.

Luther watched her go, his expression terrifyingly unreadable.

He wasn't in any rush. Her mother's condition was critical, and she was out of options. She would eventually agree.

He didn't love her, didn't care how she felt, and certainly didn't view her as a real wife. To him, she was nothing more than an object to satisfy his urges.